


Maybe Enough, Maybe Better

by Current521



Series: Starkid Writes [13]
Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: F/M, Post-Canon, some mild gorey stuff i guess, starkid writes, starkid writes discord
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 09:22:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21241799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Current521/pseuds/Current521
Summary: Ted sees Charlotte singing. And he sees her again. And again. And again.





	Maybe Enough, Maybe Better

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt this week was "something new" and I had an idea, but uhh, it's not exactly what I ended up with. I'm apparently fascinated with the singing aliens and what happens to the person after their apotheosis, so that's what I wrote again.

Charlotte was singing, guts hanging out, shoulder to shoulder with Sam. Ted wasn’t exactly prepared for this scenario, not to mention, he was already intoxicated and scared half to death. He admitted later that he wasn’t being rational.

He tried to get to Charlotte. If he could just get to her, hold her, tell her everything, maybe she’d stop. Maybe he could save her.

A gunshot, then another. Ted gave up; he couldn’t save her now.

So he got drunk. It wasn't ideal, and he did vaguely feel bad for yelling at Bill, but well. He needed it. And he was right; they'd die.

So would he and that barista whose name he couldn't remember, he realised, when he woke up tied to a chair. The king was singing, and honestly, Ted was tired, upset, scared, a little drunk still, with an onset hangover, so he wasn’t in the mood for… Whatever this was. It was easier to just give in.

It was easier to run; Paul came back, to his surprise. Bill didn’t. That didn’t surprise him.

He abandoned the others. He liked Paul, but he didn’t have the energy to care, was too scared, too survivalist.

He got shot, but it wasn’t painful. In fact, he felt better than he had all day. Better than being drunk in the fortress, better than the relief of knowing he’d survived, better than hitting Sam over the head with the lid of a trash can, better than yelling at Charlotte, better…

Not better than kissing Charlotte goodbye in the morning, the whispered promise that they’d see each other soon. Not better than that. And Charlotte was dead, and theoretically Ted was too, so nothing would ever be better.

The hive survived. Ted, no longer in control of his own body, watched them survive. He was dead, a ghost in his own mind.

He was dead until he saw her. Charlotte. Guts hanging out, blue, half her head blown off, blue, only one eye visible — blue. Not the sickly, too-bright blue of the hive, but the blue he remembered, the blue eyes that had met him on so many mornings, the blue eyes that made him trip over his words if he looked for too long.

“Charlotte?” For the first time in what felt like months, but was barely days, Ted felt in control of his own body. “Charlotte, I—” He lost it. “I’m so happy to see you’re still in the hive.” His voice sounded wrong to his own ears.

She smiled at him, and Ted wrestled back control to reach out for her. She took his hand. “You’ve joined us.”

“I have, Charlotte, we can break out of this, we can— We can sing.” Ted had to give up. He didn’t want to, wished he didn’t have to, but he saw Charlotte’s eyes cloud over, the hive’s blue washing out her own, and he hoped that, at least like this, it would hurt less to watch.

It didn't. It was almost worse.

And life went on, Ted watching Charlotte from the back of his brain, not even trying to take back control, because if he managed, he'd have to try to save her, and he couldn't.

They were alone one evening, as alone as they could be. Charlotte took his hand. "Ted? There's no way out, is there?"

It took every ounce of his strength, but Ted wrestled back control to squeeze her hand. "I don't think so." He looked at her. He'd gotten used to the head wound, so he could look at her one good eye without caring. "I love you."

"I love you too." She put a hand on his face. "Too little too late."

"That's alright," he whispered. He pulled her in for a kiss, and it was better. Better than the hive, better than anything.

He lost control, and so did she, he saw her eyes flare up, but they didn't break the kiss.

And maybe, Ted thought, locked away in his brain once again, maybe this would be enough. Even if he wasn't in control, he could feel the way his hand tensed on her back, her lips against his, her hand on his face, the desperate way her tongue made its way into his mouth, like so many times before. He wanted to pull back, to grin at her and make some comment about slowing down, before moving back in, faster, but he didn't, couldn't. They were slow, something new to him, slow and almost tender. Loving.

Maybe it was enough. Maybe it was even better.


End file.
